Something Happend
by Soapytoast
Summary: Out walking his dog at the beach Alfred Jones makes a shocking discovery, the body of a man. Only he's not dead yet...


Crouched down I peered at the sand. A sudden jolt from my wrist nearly pulled me over. I tugged back on the lead, but the the resistance didn't slacken.

"C'mon Lemon, gimme a minute," steadying myself with one hand as I spoke.

The large yellow Labrador barked as a reply, what on earth could be so interesting over there anyway. Better not be a gull carcas to roll in, the last one's smell clung to his fur for over a week. Wrinkling my nose as the faint memory of the smell entered my nostrils.

Without really looking I pulled her close and unlatched the metal clasp of the lead. Not pausing for a moment the dog bolted in the the same direction she'd been leaning. It didn't really bother me much at first, she was a well trained dog. We walked this beach together nearly every week. It wasn't very popular with tourists and the best for combing. What startled me was the sudden, alert, barking.

Scrambling upwards, ignoring the gentle abrasion of the damp sand against my jean I went to see what she'd got so worked up about. My feet sunk heavily into the sand, slowing my rough attempt at jogging. Salt spray fogged the lens of my glasses, making it hard to see until I was quite close.

Small pale toes poked out of the sand, the only visible part of some buried feet. Lying a few inches deep into the sand parts of the his torso, face and limbs were visible. Light hair around the face blending effortlessly into the sand. The way the body stuck out of the sand seemed all too similar to a shell or pebble. Washed up just like any piece of rubbish.

My stomach twisted at the thought.

The ghostly pale skin looked almost rubbery in appearance, it felt cold and clamp under my fingertips. Fumbling around it's wrist my own fingers to cold to feel a pulse. Lemon's hot nose rubbed against my hand as she calmed down. Stomach acid burnt it's way up my throat. I turned away, heaving air out of my lungs. I tried to feel for the phone in my pocket. Panicking slightly as it thudded softly onto the sand.

The dog let out a high pitched whine, interrupted by a violent cough. Limbs suddenly jerked around, spraying sand as they clawed at the ground. Raspy and dry it sounded like the cough of a heavy smoker. Quickly my body jerked around, forcing the bile back down to my stomach.

Looking more closely at him now I noticed he was young. At least younger than me. His eyes were such a pure brilliant green I nearly mistook them for sea glass.

I couldn't help staring in surprise.

"What are you looking at?" The voice was hoarse, as if it had been dry for a long time. Though somehow more surprisingly the man was clearly British.

"You," the dumb reply escaped my tongue before I could stop it. "What are you doing, something happened?"

"I'm not exactly sure…" The man lay still partially embedded in the sand, small grains clinging to his clothing and hair. His clumsy hand reached out I grasped it. Feeling the dead weight of his body as I pulled him up.

"You live 'round here?" I said, my usually confident voice came out a little shaky. There was a strange feeling of familiarity about his face which made me sure that he was local. Had I seen him at a bar or did we go to the same gym?

"I… I live…" his blank expression said it all. Did he actually pass out drunk? I watched as he looked around, clearly disorientated. The dog noisily licked the salt of his skin, but he paid her no attention.

"If ya don't remember that's alright," I hoped my tone didn't betray the mild panic I felt, "Is there anyone I can call?"

My hand scrambled beside me for the discarded phone. Lightly I brushed the screen and made a stupid motion of waving the device and holding it to my ear. Who know what this guy had been up to. Perhaps he'd taken something.

"Phone? Is that…" He scrunched his eyebrows together. I noticed for the first time how ridiculous untamed and bushy they were. "What is that?"

His eyes trained on the sleek iPhone in my palm, "Oh, it's the latest model. I always gotta get the newest one. 'Sides I got a friend who can get me a good discount."

For a while he opened his lips, flapping them up and down like a tadpole gasping at the water's surface for air. "I can't think… of anyone to call."

My heartbroke slightly at the exhausted and confused expression on his face. I forced a slightly painful laugh out, "You musta had a good night last night. Wanna come back to my place a sleep it off a bit?"

I reached out and roughly clasped the leash back onto Lemons collar, hooking the other end around my wrist. This gave me two hands to pull the man upright. He was light and wobbly on his feet, his arm hooked around my neck as I helped him take his first few steps up the beach.

"Thanks" He said, stumbling forwards on his own. I guided him to my pickup. Lemon bounded into the back happily, curling up in her favourite corner by the drivers side. The man leant against the side of the truck, waiting for my help up into the seat.

I settled behind the wheel, adjusting my mirror so I could not only check for cars but get a good glimpse of the dog. Not that she'd ever bolt.

What the hell are you doing, I screamed internally, inviting some lunatic passed out on the beach back to you house? You don't even know his name.

The gentle purr of the engine made me feel a little calmer, more in control. Beside me I could hear the stranger breathing softly.

"Oh, Er, you still awake?" A vague noise that sounded like confirmation came from the adjacent seat, "I just realised that I didn't getcha name back there. I'm Alfred by the way."

The question was met with an awkward silence. I tightened my grip on the wheel, leaving the car park a little slower than usual.

"Dude, are you listening?" I turned to look, "fuuckk, shit."

Blood oozed out of the man's nose, he looked incredibly pale. "I think there are some tissues in the cubby-hole," I slammed the breaks on a little hard. The car stalled to a stop at the car park entrance. Reaching across with one hand I popped the glove box open. The man pulled out some tissues holding them over his face to replace the sleeve of his shirt.

"Sorry," He said, mumbling through the wad of tissues, "I'm… my name is… Arthur?"

I nodded, again feeling a suspicious sense of familiarity.

The rest of the short drive seemed uneventful in comparison. Arthur remained silent in the passenger seat.

"We're here." I tried my hardest to sound cheery, though it probably sounded idiotic more than anything. Pulling up to the old house I didn't know to feel nervous or comforted. It had been my Grandfathers. I moved from Minnesota to California to look after him when he became sick and eventually he left it to me in his will.

Lemon had already jumped out the back and stood ready by the door. Arthur followed me inside, I felt a little quilty watching his bare feet walk across the gravel drive.

"There is a spare room just straight in on the left if you wanna crash out, I can lend you some clean clothes. Hopefully you're head will clear up after some rest. If not I'll drive ya to the nearest hospital or police station."

"Right… cheers."

He left the strange man to rest a while and ventured deeper into his house. First stop being the kitchen. A scoop of dried dog food rattled it's way down into Lemon's bowl.

"Good girl," I praised as she patiently waited for her food. Not nipping at my fingers while I lowered the bowl.

Passing the drying rack I grabbed a spare grey tee and some sweatpants. They'd probably be a little large on him, but it'd be better than the sandy wet clothes he was currently wearing.

As I stepped out of the kitchen to deliver the clothes I found Arthur stood in the hall, staring at a glass frame on the wall. The floorboards creaked quietly as I approached. Wide eyes and startled Arthur turned back to look at me.

"You look like you've seen a ghost!" I exclaimed, "sorry if I crept up on ya. Here's some spare clothes."

"Oh, thank you. You've been too kind…" He spoke distantly his English accent becoming more pronounced. It took a moment of him looking at the clothes in his hands as if the were some alien device before walking back into the spareroom.

Thinking it his behaviour seemed strange I took a glance at the picture. It was an old framed newspaper clipping. Grandpa had saved a bunch from my football years, it was just a local newspaper article. The years of age showed in the paper, it was thin and yellowed. Staring at it for longer I noticed something. Hairs pricked over the back of my neck as I noticed a picture just below the sports article.

A group of students stood as if taking a course photograph from the group, one stood out in particular. They were the spitting image of Arthur. Perhaps an older sibling, or uncle?

Plucking the cheap wood frame from the wall I brought it to the kitchen table. Lemon rested her warm muzzle on my knee, drooling slightly. Carefully I bent back the metal clips holding the paper in. To my luck the paper inside hadn't been cut, only folded back to fit.

The delicate paper felt like dry air between my fingers as I opened it out.

My hands trembled slightly as I checked the date. March 2002. Nearly sixteen years ago.

I glanced back down to the article nervously. It seemed to be about a missing person.

English student, Arthur - the same name, reading it my mouth turned dry - Kirkland, age 22, recently disappeared without a trace. The young man, last seen by fellow students at a beach party has now been missing for a month. First reported to police by his flatmate Francis Bonnefoy a week after his last sighting the police have struggled to find traces of the young man's movements...

Studying the text I began to vaguely recall the incident.

I could only have been twelve at the time, I imagine my mom mostly shielded me from most of it but I'd been old enough to understand. There had been a widespread search, particularly of the beach areas. At one point I'm sure it actually made state news.

Police brought out dogs and searched the beaches. The kind of dogs that were particularly good at finding bodies.

I shifted my thumb slightly to have a look at the second close up picture. Roughly the size of a passport photo, I presumed it was taken from a student ID. Though slightly blurred it was unmistakable.

It took a moment to process what I was seeing. There was no way.

They were the same. Not just the same person, but exactly the same. Unaged.

"What the fuck."

 **AN: This is something a bit new for me, both writing for a mystery genre and my first foray into first person perspective (which I'm pretty sure I suck at) so any feedback would be greatly appreciated! I'm not 100% sure I will continue this as a multichap fic or if it's okay to just leave it here...**


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